Safety
by Nagasasu
Summary: The relationship between King Joshua, Queen Natasha, and an injured Marisa changes when Marisa takes Joshua as her lover. Joshua/Marisa/Natasha.


Written/completed: 5/15/2011  
>Posted: 515/2011 (LJ), 8/8/2011 (FF.n)  
>Last Edited: 88/2011  
>Word Count: 1250<p>

A/N: In Marisa's C support with Tethys, Marisa says she doesn't roll over in her sleep because of her father's training. (There needs to be more Marisa/Natasha in the world.) Feedback is appreciated.

This was written for the Fire Emblem Shin Kink Meme on Livejournal, for the prompt: _Joshua, Natasha/Marissa. Queen and concubine, which is which and how do they deal with it? Anon wants to know._

* * *

><p>Marisa, along with Gerik and Tethys, takes a job in Jehanna. Trips to her home country of sand and grit and her father's image fill her with a strange feeling she channels into singular focus with her blade. Unexpected was her injury, along with fever, that left her unable to travel. She probably wouldn't have survived if they hadn't known the King and Queen personally.<p>

"We cannot take you with us," Gerik says. "King Joshua has offered to let you stay here, and Queen Natasha has continued to offer her aid. When you are recovered, send word to the guild to meet up with us."

She nods. Gerik touches her hand. She looks at his hand on hers, wondering if things would be different if she'd learned to be friendlier - had learned what it meant to be a woman instead of a sword.

* * *

><p>She cannot sleep in a room with walls, so Sister Natasha must put her to bed with a Sleep staff nightly.<p>

"Marisa," the healer says at length, "I cannot keep using the staff on you. Soon, you will be unable to find rest without it."

That night, Joshua – titles like King, based in blood and lineage, mean nothing to her; titles like Chief, earned by spilt blood, are what she recognize – comes into her room for the first time.

Although his footsteps are soft and quiet, her blade is naked in one hand, and the sheath in the other ready for violence. Her legs cannot support her weight for long; she'll have to move quick to -

"Oh, you're awake." She hears his voice before she can see him, but she recognizes it. Even that can make the difference of life and death.

She sheathes the sword, but keeps it in her left hand.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've been checking up on you. I can't have Natasha up at all hours. Well, all hours for healing; I don't complain when she's up all night with me."

"I'm still alive. You can report that back to her. Now leave."

He comes closer, barefoot, and her muscles tense in preparation.

"But you're," he drawls the word out, "still awake. How about we make a bet?" He produces a coin from his sash.

She is reminded of their sword matches during the war, and the delightful tension of their swords meeting, the singing metal, the singing blood, and his eyes watching her hands. There'd been something different in the way he watched her, the way he's watching her now.

"What are we betting on?" Her voice is dry from more than disuse.

He smiles, and she sees it for what it is, a bearing of sharp teeth. Her pulse settle between her thighs. "Why, if I win I'll help you go to sleep."

She accepts, knowing she'll lose, wondering what will come next. When he pushes aside the sheets and hikes up her trews, she is thinking of how Gerik and Tethys have taken their happiness, her own be damned, and how she will take this piece as her own, Sister Natasha be damned.

He does not kiss her, not even to swallow her hoarse moans.

* * *

><p>Sister Natasha is more perceptive than Marisa thought. Marisa has recovered enough to walk around the palace now, but not enough to survive a fight. She has not the endurance for it, her muscles weak, the joints not moving as they should.<p>

Natasha comes in to check on her still, but nowhere near as often. She catches Marisa in the hallway.

"You're bruised," Natasha says. Her voice has not changed from the war; soft, gentle, like rubbing balm on bruised flesh.

"I am often bruised from practice," Marisa states.

Natasha's fingertips gently touches the slope of Marisa's neck, right below her ear. "Not here, you aren't."

Marisa says nothing.

"You aren't having problems sleeping anymore, right?" Her finger slide away down to the hollow of her throat and fall away. Marisa thinks the touch odd and strange.

Marisa doesn't know what game Natasha's playing; why ask a question she must already know the answer to? "No," she states, "I'm not."

"What," Natasha whispers, "do you do that captivates him so?"

Marisa sees Natasha's hands shaking; Marisa captures them in her own and stills them. "I have studied the sword, I do not hesitate." She pulls hard on Natasha's hands until Natasha must kneel or fight Marisa's grip, and then releases her. "I take what happiness I can find. What do you wish to take?" She gazes down at Natasha who is slowly righting herself and smoothing her skirt.

There is something in her eyes, but Natasha walks away as if nothing had happened before Marisa can figure it out. Marisa wonders when the Sister gained that kind of grace. She hadn't expected the healer to know what it was to have her center and not let it be taken away.

* * *

><p>Having finished the first set of warm-ups her father had taught her, she returns her sword to her sash. She finds Natasha watching her from the doorway. Natasha'd been there the past few weeks, merely watching with an unsurveyable quality, and at times, giving Marisa tea afterwards. It makes no sense to Marisa; she is sleeping with the woman's husband, why is she lingering near her?<p>

So she asks. Setting the steaming cup of tea on the ground, Natasha comes towards Marisa, the thin material of her dress sliding between her thighs and the train dragging. There is something of Joshua in that walk. She looks straight into Marisa eyes with bold determination. Marisa notices the movement of Natasha's hips against the smooth flow of fabric. "You told me that you took what you wanted." Her voice is still soft, but it is strong and carries in the practice room.

Natasha comes to a stop too near Marisa for Marisa's own comfort; she can feel Natasha's breasts below her own, rising and falling with her breaths. "Joshua does the same, that's how I fell in love with him. So I want to know."

Natasha grabs Marisa's wrists and drags them down, and Marisa allows her to, her back bending to lean down, curious where this is going. She is not worried Natasha is trying to kill her; she is a healer, and even if she tries, Marisa can easily break her grip and draw her sword against Natasha's soft belly. When her face is pulled own low enough, Natasha leans up for a kiss.

Her lips are soft, and as they part, Marisa can feel her small panting breaths. Marisa is greatly surprised when Natasha ends the gentle kiss by laying a sharp bite below her ear.

* * *

><p>The two make no effort to hide their affair from Joshua. It is Marisa who asks Natasha to meet her when she will be with Joshua. It only makes sense to her, now that she's sleeping with them both, and those two are presumably still sleeping with one another, that they take the next logical step.<p>

This time, it is Joshua who is surprised when Natasha walks in and instead of leaving, says, "She likes it better when you blow air against her throat before you bite."

Joshua grins quite wickedly and pulls her down to the blankets with them.

That night, for the first time in many years, Marisa rolls over in her sleep to curl beside her bedmates. She has a healer and swordsmaster at her sides. There is nothing to fear.


End file.
